


And Where We Go, Nobody Knows

by HermioneGranger1960



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Beth leaps into Rio's world, Beth takes matters into her own hands when it comes to Rio, Boss bitch, Established Relationship, F/M, Kind of dark Beth, Mick and Beth are kind of friends, Protective Beth, Proud Rio, Sex, Though not exactly smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23835565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermioneGranger1960/pseuds/HermioneGranger1960
Summary: After Rio shows up on Beth's doorstep barely clinging to life, Beth decides that it's time to fully embrace her role in crime while seeking justice for Rio.“It had to be done.” Beth spoke to his back. Rio’s eyes flickered up to meet her gaze in the mirror. She needed him to know that it had to be done, they couldn’t sit back and let his actions go unchecked, she couldn’t let the fact that he was almost taken from her again –"I know."
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 28
Kudos: 182





	And Where We Go, Nobody Knows

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Writing has been especially hard for me for a few months now, but I've gotten a few prompts so I thought I'd try to get back into the swing of things! This fic went a little darker than I expected.
> 
> Come visit me at medievaldarling.tumblr.com!

Her ears were ringing in the small but bright bathroom, her heart lodged somewhere in her throat, her blood rushing through her veins so fast her head was spinning. Palms slick, but hands steady. Her breathing long and even as she carefully controlled each breath, the burnt smell choking her for an instant.

Elizabeth Boland didn’t feel a thing.

That’s not exactly true: she felt some things – physical things – like the vibrations sent up her arm from the recoil of the gun. But she was decidedly detached from the scene playing out in front of her, a scene she’d carefully constructed in the confines of her dark bedroom each night, rolling the idea around in her mind like Rio rolled hard candies in his mouth when his sugar craving struck. She’d planned it down to the last detail.

Well, perhaps some of the details were a little skewed.

The man hadn’t dropped like a sack of potatoes when the bullet tore into his flesh.

So she’d fired another shot. Too messy in a lot of ways.

The shock on his face almost made her smile. He hadn’t expected this, so self-assured, such a narcissist, already constructing a thrilling narrative for his friends for the next day when he told them how he hooked up with a woman whose chest you could spot from a mile away. He had looked forward to this; Beth could nearly taste the excitement on him as he hungrily followed her into her house, hands groping where they could reach. She simpered and giggled like she’d had too much to drink, adding in a few stumbles to make him feel like he had all the power here – over the situation, over her, over this story.

It made him lower his guard.

It had been easy to lure him in, like a moth to a porch light kept burning brightly during humid summer nights in Detroit. It was easier than it had any right to be. He’d approached like a predator, all teeth and broad shoulders, and all she had to do was smile sweetly at him from across the room, teasing a lock of her hair around one long finger. He may have been a lion, but she was a viper hiding beneath a pretty façade created to pull him close.

She’d picked a deliberately low cut dress – had bought one just for this night because she needed to create someone new, and none of her clothing could lend the power she needed. She’d chatted happily to the saleswoman about the man who’d get to see her in the new getup, having no idea what the simple dress was being used for. Crème, tight, revealing. Her hair and makeup was done with precision. Dark red lipstick completed the dream she was weaving for her prey.

It took less than thirty minutes to convince him to follow her out of the bar.

Beth let him think she was leaving because he’d asked, that he’d charmed her with his irresistible charisma and smooth lines that had been practiced with success on dozens of women before her so why wouldn’t it work this time? She let him think she was shy. Let him think he could show her a thing or two. Let him think he could show her God.

He’d followed her home. She could feel his eagerness by how close he drove behind her, how he buried his face in her hair as she opened the front door, pressing himself against her, nearly panting against her throat.

He’d practically dragged her to the bed, tossing her down before she’d dropped her purse, hands already shoving their way beneath her tight dress. She’d squirmed away from his wandering fingers as he mouthed at her neckline, pausing when she suggested they take the party into the shower. The primal hunger on his face made her stomach lurch for a second – this was dangerous, teetering on the edge of disaster, the seconds dragging on for an eternity as he stared down at her, breath strained with arousal.

Finally he relented, following her into the bathroom as Beth released a breath she’d been desperately holding. She stood before the vanity, noting the redness of her chest from where his mouth had been. She could see him practically drooling where he was waiting in front of the shower.

Beth gave him a shy smile as she removed her earrings. He leered as he kicked off his shoes. She watched as his attention turned away for a split second to work on undoing the buttons of his shirt. Beth pulled out the drawer beside her where she’d carefully stashed the handgun hours before. The mother-of-pearl accents glistened in the light.

He didn’t even see the first shot.

Briefly she thought it was stupid that he came with no sort of weapon on him. Probably left his gun in his car. Why would he think he was in danger from woman looking for a dirty hookup in a bar?

His hand was pressed to the wound in his shoulder as he blinked stupidly at her for a few seconds, slouched against the wall but still standing. Before he could make a dash for safety, she fired again, red blossoming around the buttons he hadn’t reached near his abdomen.

This time he slid to the floor leaving a gruesome streak along the wall, his face pale from the blood loss or shock – it didn’t matter.

Beth could see the fight go out of him as blood began pooling beneath him; he withered before her eyes, no longer a man filled with sexual prowess. Her arms dropped to her sides as she stepped forward, sinking down to his level in an elegant crouch, heels planted firmly on the ground. His mouth was hanging open as he gasped for breath, both hands pressed to his stomach in a vain attempt to prevent the inevitable, eyes flickering between her face and the gun she let hang limply in front of her knees.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Beth asked softly, surprised at how even her voice was.

The man shook his head with a soft cough that brought blood to his lips.

“No,” she smiled coldly. “You probably don’t remember. A few months ago you ordered your men to send a message to someone.” 

She watched the gears turn in his head. He couldn’t think with death crawling up his spine and exhaling its icy breath against the back of his neck, numbing his limbs as it wove its insidious barbs within him, sucking the life from him with each passing second.

“You wanted to encroach on territory that wasn’t yours.” She scolded him like a child, letting the rage that had been festering in her for months seep into each word. “We all work together around here,” she continued, lifting the gun between them to study the craftsmanship, pleased at the reaction it pulled from him. “We all have our _things_. Drugs, money, guns.” She looked beyond the gun and registered the absolute terror on the man’s face. She wasn’t big on villain speeches in movies – left too much time for the heroes to intervene and stop the nefarious plans from unfurling, but this wasn’t a movie. She’d thought about this moment for _months_. He was going to know exactly why he was bleeding out on her bathroom floor before Death ushered him away.

“See, we tried to put you back in your place. Not too much, just a pointed shove to get you back into your lane. Except you didn’t like that.”

Blood was trickling down his chin now, horrifically bubbling from his mouth as he uselessly attempted to cling to life. She studied him for a long moment, eyes watching the pink foam drop from his mouth and onto his shirt that he’d picked specifically for this night because it hugged each hard earned muscle.

“A few months ago I woke up to a broken and bloody man stumbling into my house. He nearly bled out in my bed—I had to get a new mattress. He only just got back on his feet. Of course he’s still a little rough but he’ll make a full recovery. He spent _months_ trying to decide how to handle you, carefully thinking through each and every scenario.”

Beth met his gaze evenly, wanting to see his eyes, feeling the heaviness of the moment settling around them.

“Rio has always been a strategist.”

The man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his skull, one of his hands reaching out to grab her throat. Beth didn’t try to stop him, knowing that he was too weak to do any damage. When he applied pressure, she lifted her hand fast as lightning to return the favor, sending him back against the wall with a groan, his hand streaking blood across her skin. Beth held him against the ruined drywall by his throat.

“Attacking him was a mistake, on your part. Rio is a dangerous man, but you should have done your homework before blindly going after him.” Beth leaned forward so he could feel the weight of her words. “ _I protect what’s mine_.”

The recalculation of who she was came too late, but it was there nonetheless. Beth gave him a smile devoid of any warmth. She rifled through his pockets, finding his phone and tucking it into her bra as she headed back into the bedroom and towards the dining room. Selecting a chair, she returned to the bathroom, setting is down a few feet from the man and taking a seat on the very edge.

They stared at one another for a few moments before the man turned with a groan, falling onto his stomach as he weakly tried to drag himself from the bathroom – a futile move, but she supposed you’d do what you could to find safety at a moment like this.

“I’d rather you didn’t get blood on my carpet.” She stood, placing the gun on the counter before snagging the man’s ankles in order to drag him back into the room, knowing that later it would bother her as she realized the blood smeared and pooling on the tiles helped lubricate the movement.

Beth retook her seat, wiping her hands on her ruined dress. She ignored the blood congealing and turning tacky on her own skin, ignored the heavy cloying scent of iron that hung in the air, mixing with the remnant aroma of gunpowder.

 _I protect what’s mine_.

And Rio was hers, just as she was his. They’d stop fighting whatever it was that simmered between them months ago. He was in her bed more often than not. Their personal lives had started to bleed into one another’s and neither did anything to stop it. Beth had been reluctant at first, but it was a losing battle. It had always been a losing battle. They’d fallen in with one another swiftly once they had stopped lying to each other and themselves.

She didn’t think she’d ever felt such rage when Mick explained what had happened as she watched over an unconscious Rio, his skin grey and clammy beneath the piles of blankets she’d collected to help keep him warm. Rio had been attacked when he’d been checking up on some of the businesses he washed cash through. It wasn’t a job that needed back up, so he didn’t have any.

The bar owner had found Rio hours later, beaten to a pulp beside the dumpster, cellphone smashed beside him. Mick got to him first, dragging him into her house in the dead of night, knowing that her place was safe.

“So someone turned.” She murmured to Mick as they stood at the end of her bed, watching as Rio struggled to breathe, knowing they could do nothing at this point. “Someone knew he’d be alone and where he’d be.”

Mick grunted. “Already looking into it.”

“Good.”

Mick stayed with her, periodically leaving to check the perimeter of the yard and answer phone calls. He was a man of little emotion, so when he suddenly cursed, Beth lifted her eyes from Rio’s face. He’d been reluctant to share, but she demanded answers. Mick’s gaze flickered to Rio for a brief moment.

“Don’t know if the boss would like me telling business to his girl.”

 _His girl?_ She’d pushed that to the back of her mind to be mulled over later when she wasn’t teetering on the edge of something catastrophic. “When people get wind of this, they’re going to swoop down like a bunch of vultures and pick his operations clean. We need to handle this – now.”

And so with a single long look where he examined her closely and apparently reached a decision, Mick explained that a rival – Alvarez – had retaliated. And the thing was, that name wasn’t new to her, which came as a surprise to Mick. She ignored Mick’s blatant reassessment of her once she explained that Rio had informed her of the impending turf war. 

“I’ll take care of it.” She murmured once they were both on the same page.

“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Can you keep things running while he’s out of commission?” she asked sharply. “We need to contain this as much as possible. I’m sure Alvarez is already spreading rumors through the grapevine and we need to stifle it as much as possible.”

“I can run it.” Mick nodded solemnly. “Most of it.”

“Do what you can, and make it seem like Rio is still giving the orders. And I’ll need you to give me as much information as you can on Alvarez.”

That night while watching over Rio like an avenging angel, Elizabeth Boland planned her first murder.

* * *

She was drawn from her thoughts by Alvarez’s labored breath. It wouldn’t be long now. Beth left the room briefly to retrieve her own cellphone from her purse that lay forgotten beside the bed, dialing Rio’s number as she returned to the bathroom. He didn’t answer.

She tried Mick next, knowing that Rio had more or less given the order that if she called he was to answer no matter what.

“Yo.” Mick answered his phone like Rio did, but it lacked the warm cadence that usually came with it, warmth mixed with some level of arousal that she’d grown used to.

“It’s done.” She didn’t explain. Didn’t have to. He knew what she was up to.

A long pause. A quiet shuffling on his end. A deep exhale.

“Where?”

“My house. Rio isn’t answering his phone.”

“I’ll handle it.” He grunted as he hung up.

And Elizabeth listened to the last few rattling gasps against her bathroom tile before the room fell into absolute silence.

* * *

She placed her phone and Alvarez’s phone on the counter beside the gun, everything lined up perfectly and orderly, the direct opposite of the scene behind her.

Elizabeth took her seat, crossing her legs primly and hooking her interlaced hands over a knee. She studied the shell of the man before her. Was there something wrong with her that she felt nothing in this moment? Would it hit her in an hour? A week? A month?

The thing is, she would do it again – knew without a doubt that she’d pick up a gun again if Rio showed up on her doorstep in the same condition. His face was so swollen that she’d gone into the backyard to _sob_ , needing to get the horror of what was done to him out of her system so she could think clearly. It was gruesome, horrific. She could close her eyes now and hear the struggle of each and every breath he took because they’d cracked ribs. Broke a few bones. Split his face open. Beth could still feel the choking anticipation that she experienced every time he exhaled, wondering if he’d have enough left in him to take another breath. Sometimes she found herself awake in the middle of the night, listening to his deep and even breathing, telling herself that she didn’t need to count the seconds between breaths anymore.

Thinking about it now caused her rage to flare back up. She looked down at Alvarez to confirm he wasn’t moving and let the relief of that wash over her and soothe the wrath she’d held close to her, stoking it bit by bit over the months so she could wrap herself in fire and serve her own twisted version of justice.

The lock on the French doors clicked, the sound loud in the completely still house. Beth didn’t take her eyes from the man on her bathroom floor until a figure appeared in the doorway.

Mick stood there, studying the scene. She knew what it looked like – a massacre. It was amazing how the blood had spread. There was blood everywhere. The wall, the floor, her shower door, smeared on the counter, on the gun and phones.

Her. It was all over her.

Mick stepped to the side, revealing Rio’s slender frame standing in the shadows. He stepped into the room, eyes flashing around the room before settling on her. He was dressed in jeans and a simple button down with a light jacket. His face remained expressionless, but she learned to read his emotions through the flash of his eyes. He looked at her like he’d never seen her before – raw and open, like she’d suddenly stripped off a façade and he was glimpsing her for the first time.

He clocked the fact that she’d taken the time to drag the dining room chair into the room, felt the weight of her action, but didn’t say a word.

Because she wanted to watch, wanted to see the life drain from him in order to make up for what she had been through – for _hours_ they weren’t sure Rio was going to make it. And those hours felt like years to Beth, and she wanted to inflict that same torture on the man who’d inflicted it on Rio – on her.

The darkness that unfurled within her since Rio lay prone in her bed clinging to life sometimes scared her. It was always there, ever since she met Rio, but she’d worked hard to keep her boundaries firmly in place. She was shocked at how easily she leaned into that undulating darkness she’d carefully kept in check. Beth submerged herself all at once, and perhaps too deep – deep enough that sitting here in this bathroom, she wasn’t sure she could pull herself back out.

Beth’s eyes flickered to Mick as he turned the body over – completely drenched in blood – to look at his face. He lifted his eyes and met her gaze, giving her a solemn nod. Beth gave him a single nod back. They’d planned this for months; Rio left them alone often enough that it was easy to find the time. Mick had left the details up to her, but had given her good pointers and information to work with, wanting to send her in as prepared as he could. Beth knew that he was thinking of Rio and covering his own ass. If something happened to her, Mick would be held accountable and Rio was volatile when it came to her. She’d seen it once, when she’d been pushed around at a drop and came home sporting bruises on her arm. The next week there was another man meeting her at the drops.

When Beth looked back to Rio, she saw his eyes flickering back and forth between the two of them, his mind working through the pieces easily enough.

“You two in this together?” He was glaring down at Mick who was still crouched near the body.

“It was my idea.” Her voice was hoarse and Beth realized how thirsty she was. “If you want to be pissed at anyone, be pissed at me. Mick didn’t do anything.”

Mick narrowed his eyes at her because that wasn’t exactly true. And true to form, Mick immediately fessed up to his end in the scheme. Rio cursed viciously, hands clenched at his side.

“You didn’t think to tell me she was plannin’ on going ape shit on ‘im?” Rio barked, jaw working furiously. “You lucky she’s sittin’ in that chair and not on this floor.” It was heavily implied that Mick wouldn’t be breathing if circumstances in that bathroom had been different.

“She was gonna do it anyway,” Mick murmured, standing with a shrug while seeming unperturbed by Rio’s threat. “Helped her as much as I could so she came out the other side in once piece.”

And Rio’s rage wavered before melting slightly. He met Mick’s gaze for a long moment, a clear indication that they’d known each other long enough that they could hold a conversation without a word. Rio gave a sharp nod and Mick’s shoulders relaxed.

Elizabeth met Rio’s gaze head on when he turned his attention back to her. His eyes skated over her briefly – long enough that he knew exactly how she’d gotten Alvarez to her house – before he sighed and stepped forward. He cupped her chin, rubbing his thumb gently along her jaw.

“You hurt?” he asked softly, hand dropping down to touch the dried blood on her throat in the shape of Alvarez’s hand. She shook her head, knowing that her voice would crack if she opened her mouth. His soft tone was undoing the careful control she was just barely hanging onto. 

“Alright.” He sighed, bending to kiss her forehead briefly.

Beth remained quiet as Rio and Mick discussed what was to be done with the body and cleanup. She’d need all new tiles because getting the blood stains out of the grout would be nearly impossible. Beth didn’t mind as she was looking to replace the tiles with something more modern anyway. Mick left the room to make his phone calls as Rio studied her carefully arranged items on the counter.

“It had to be done.” Beth spoke to his back. Rio’s eyes flickered up to meet her gaze in the mirror. She needed him to know that it had to be done, they couldn’t sit back and let his actions go unchecked, _she_ couldn’t let the fact that he was almost taken from her again –

“I know.”

And that brought her up short. She expected to be reamed out for what she’d done; the blowback that he’d have to deal with because of this would impact his business which was a notoriously touchy subject between them. Beth blinked at him. Rio turned, putting his back to the mirror, arms crossed in a casual manner as he leaned against the counter. Regardless of his blasé demeanor, Beth could read the tension in his shoulders and clenched jaw, a muscle jumping near his temple.

“I…it wasn’t just business.” Beth admitted, lowering her eyes. He’d told her countless times that her emotions always got the best of her and that they needed to be set aside when dealing with business. They often argued about it, and she still had a hard time separating personal from work, so much so that Rio had insisted they only talk shop at bars or restaurants so they didn’t take it home.

“I know.” He repeated. “I woulda done the same.” The admission hung heavily in the air between them, Beth’s heart jumping into her throat for an entirely different reason now. There was something twisted in her accelerated heartbeat as he blatantly admitted to her that he’d kill a man if their roles were reversed. She suspected that the man from the drop had been dealt with in the same manner, but Rio had never confirmed it and Beth hadn’t wanted to ask.

Her gaze snapped back to his. As far as talking about feelings, well, this was the closest they’d come. Elizabeth inhaled deeply before releasing the breath slowly, feeling the tension that had been growing since he’d stepped into the room melt away. She had been gearing up for an argument, knowing that she almost always had to defend what she did.

Rio stepped forward, pulling her from the chair. Her legs were numb, but it didn’t matter as Rio supported most of her weight when he tugged her into the circle of his arms. Beth melted against him, boneless with relief. She closed her eyes, breathing him in, taking comfort as he offered it. And again she was struck with how perceptive he was, especially when it came to her because right now, _this_ was what she needed more than anything.

Mick returned a few minutes later and Beth instinctively pulled away, never keen on being physical with Rio in front of his men. She tried hard to keep things as professional as she could – for both of their sakes.

A few trusted guys were coming to remove the body and clean up the mess. They’d remove the tiles before having the flooring people come in to install the new tile. The paint would have to be redone as well. Beth didn’t chime in, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“We’ll spend the week at the loft, yeah?”

She nodded, shocked when he bent down to place a lingering kiss on her mouth in front of Mick – comforting and possessive. Something bloomed in Rio’s eyes when she pulled back, a pleased sort of wildness churning in him, something she’d caught glimpses of in the past but not long enough to examine it. Now though, he was unabashedly open to her, letting her know that he approved wholeheartedly of what she’d done. He was _proud_. And that made something low in her stomach curl warmly.

Beth stepped around him to return to her bedroom in order to pack a bag, leaving Rio and Mick to conclude business. She donned a long coat to help hide the bloodstains covering her, not having it in her to change.

The ride to Rio’s was silent. She found herself waking when he turned the car off, not even realizing she’d fallen asleep. Beth didn’t protest as he pulled her through the darkness of the loft and to the bathroom. She let him strip her down, turning the water on hotter than he preferred because he knew she liked her skin to be pink by the end. Beth left him to undress, stepping under the scalding spray, dropping her head against the tile wall and closing her eyes, unable to watch the swirling pink circling the drain.

He stepped in behind her, his hands hot on her cold skin. They didn’t speak and Beth let Rio scrub the blood from her skin. She only watched him when he couldn’t watch her, studying the angular bone structure and muscles rippling beneath his beautiful skin, finding a kind of quiet peace in observing him. When they were done, she dressed in his clothes though she’d brought her own.

She swiped a hand across the fogged up mirror, catching sight of herself. She looked the same, but everything was different now, she could feel it in every fiber of her being. The ramifications would be waiting in the wings to strike her when she least expected it. And there was a kind of fear in that, not knowing or understanding how this event had changed her, only knowing that it had. A line was crossed that night, a line that she’d never be able to uncross. But she knew that as she stepped into the bar, eyes eagerly scanning the dark room for Alvarez.

Beth climbed into the familiar bed, thankful he didn’t turn the lights on. He joined her a few minutes later, tight as a wire – she could feel him in the darkness, twitchy and unsettled. Even after her shower, there seemed to be a coldness deep in the marrow of her bones. A part of her thought that she’d taken part of Alvarez’s death within her, that it had fused somewhere deep inside of her and she’d never be able to dig it out.

Only when her trembling started did Rio turn towards her. His movement spurred her on, sent her scrambling over him, pinning him down to the bed as she kissed him hungrily. There was a second of inaction from him; she could feel the shock in his body beneath her as she squirmed on top of him. But his hand was tangling in her damp hair, turning her head so he could kiss her fully.

Never one to give up power, Rio flipped them so he was pressing her down into the mattress. Beth was clawing at the sleep pants he’d slipped on after their shower, but he caught her hands, stopping her. The more she struggled to free herself, the tighter he held until she was nearly frantic.

“Look at me.” Softly spoken, but an order nonetheless.

She couldn’t. He’d see it on her skin, in her eyes, read it in every inch of her body.

“Elizabeth, look at me.”

She’d started crying at some point, the tears streaking down her face and into her hairline, but she finally looked at him hovering above her, hips slotted perfectly with hers. He didn’t say a word as she stubbornly tried to look at him despite her blurry vision. The streetlight illuminated the room enough that she felt exposed beneath his gaze. Rio remained above her, eyes trailing across her face, always coming back to meet her own. He waited – for what, Beth didn’t know – but he was searching for something and she felt his hold ease when he found it. And that moment suddenly felt too heavy for her, too _intimate_ and she—

“It’s okay,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle against her throat as his hand slipped down between them.

She nearly came off the mattress when he pushed into her, biting down on her lip so hard that the taste of copper filled her mouth.

“I got you,” his voice was gruff as he pushed deeper, nearly panting against her neck. “You’re okay, I got you.” He continued whispering against her skin, moving against her, pressing the mantra into her, painting it across her skin with each brush of his hands and mouth.

Not until he sank into her a second time that night did she finally understand what he was saying to her, the admission that came with each gentle roll of his hips and each kiss he pressed to her mouth in the darkness of the loft. She pieced herself together with his help, bit by bit, until she could look him in the eye without yielding, letting him know that she fully understood what he was unable to voice. It sank into her bones during the night; something that she didn’t know was askew clicking into place with stark certainty, planting firm ground beneath her feet that she stood proudly upon.

When she kissed him just as the sun was washing through the room, his hands pressed along her spine, accepting what she was offering to him eagerly, just as she had earlier.

Something unfurled before them in that moment, as frightening as it was wonderful.


End file.
